


Donde viven los monstruos

by lindt_barton



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Drabble, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, papa logan, sleepy logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindt_barton/pseuds/lindt_barton
Summary: If/as I write post-Logan drabbles, they will go here.1 - 'In the good timeline Logan shoots himself in the head.' (fix it)2 - 'Laura is trapped. Not for the first time. It is a manageable situation.' (fluff)3 - 'In the photo, he is caught mid-word.' (fluff)





	1. Maybe a quarter, and not like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a fix it. I think. 
> 
> 'In the good timeline Logan shoots himself in the head.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: suicidal ideation, canon compliant violence

In the good timeline Logan shoots himself in the head.

That *had* been his plan. Once Charles is dead, Logan gets a bullet in the head. He had never been sure when it would happen. Or if he would have the guts to go through with it. And now Charles is- Well he is.

What Logan could never have predicted, not in one hundred and fourty three years, is that he would be standing over the body when the bullet is spent. But he had known as soon as he'd seen that test-tube motherfucker that his magic bullet was the only way to stop him. So he'd done it as soon as he'd had a shot.

He doesn't have time to be surprised, he never does, because Charles is bleeding out and Laura is howling in terror, and he has to choose one and. 

And the next day he- the next day Logan breaks the car. He breaks. 

He hopes Charles would agree with his choice.

***

In the good timeline Logan lies in a bed of pine needles and there are no holes in his chest. 

This had not been the plan. A bloodbath in the woods for the sake of kids he'd met yesterday. But it had been all that mattered in the end. 

In the end. They didn't need to put holes in his chest because he no longer has the power to resist the poison they put deep in his bones. 

Laura's tears wash the blood of his hands, but that's all they do.

She screams. She cuts through his flesh and tries to saw the devil metal from his chest. The others pull her off him. But she had seen.

Not shining smooth chrome but creeping shards of bloodied broken bone.

Rictor looks her in the eye and tells her they can't slow down. 

Laura takes Logan's hand and starts pulling.


	2. Donde viven los monstruos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Laura is trapped. Not for the first time. It is a manageable situation. Although this extraction will require rather more stealth than she is used to. She might even have to be... gentle.'

Laura is trapped. Not for the first time. It is a manageable situation. Although this extraction will require rather more stealth than she is used to. She might even have to be... gentle.

Logan grumbles and wraps his arm ever tighter around her. His other arm droops, and takes her book even farther out of reach. _Maldita sea!_ Even the tips of her fingers are three inches short. She could probably get a claw through it, but that’s not allowed in the house, and a book with a bloody hole in the middle is probably harder to read.

She looks back at him, head drooped to the side, fine glasses slipping down his nose. Frowning, but no twitching, no nightmares. No claws in the house. 

Laura purses her lips and blows- the old-man hairs that grow in his nostrils dance and wiggle. He snorts and wrinkles his nose. Laura waits half a second and ruffles them again, like a persistent fly. Logan lifts his hand. The book falls from his fingers. She shoots a foot out. Her fists are clenched, her toes stretched as far as they can go without ruining the carpet, and the book is now balanced on her bare foot. Logan scratches his nose.

A moment or two of foot gymnastics later and she has the prize in her hands. It has large glossy pages. Few words and many pictures. It’s made for someone younger than her. She’s three inches taller than the kids in her class because she reads more slowly than the ones her age. It’s the same for all the Transigen kids.

At least she isn’t 143 years old and only speaking one language. Papa still can’t say ‘r’ properly, just ends up growling like a big old dog, while she purrs back like a cat. She does it now as she reads from where he stopped, “-Y crujieron sus dientes terribles-”

He lets out a long breath and his arm loosens around her.

“-Y movieron sus ojos terribles-”

Doesn’t quite smile, but stops frowning.

“-Y mostraron sus garras terribles.”

Maybe tonight he will dream in Spanish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I speak is English, so sorry for any crimes against Spanish held within these words.


	3. Baby monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluff :)

There is a photograph of them both on the mantelpiece. Just leant against the wall without a frame, and battered with a crease diagonally across it, like it had gotten bent in the bottom of a bag. Logan may not have mastered interior decorating, but even this cannot mask the significance of a single physical photo, ever rarer as this century drags on.

Neither of the subjects, him and Laura, had known they were being photographed. Lucky, considering the glare that Logan sends anyone that tries to photograph him. He claims it's an important insurance measure for anyone at risk of immortality, to not be photographed, because he can't admit that really he's just shy in the odd gruff manner that is unique to him. 

It was a sunny day, a Saturday afternoon, probably. Logan is bent over the open engine of an old truck he had taken in like a stray, as is his habit. He is smeared up to his elbows with engine dirt, and so are the old jeans and the white vest he is wearing. His hair is shorter than it was in the 20th century. He looks younger than he used to, though there is still grey at his temples.

Clinging to his back, her legs wrapped around his torso, and one arm around his shoulder, is Laura. She is peering over his shoulder, eyes intent on something deep in the engine to which he points. She had been there for quite some time, but in the photo, he is caught mid-word as he explains to her the fault that had brought the truck to a wheezing stop last Tuesday. 

It is a memory that neither of them can recall specifically any more. Its edges faded and blurred with all the other weekends they had spent the same way. Together, never more than metres apart, Laura leaping on and off Logan as she pleased, or staying there for hours at a time, as neither her nor Logan's muscles tired. A common enough sight that someone, familiar enough to take teasing sentimental photos, had snapped one when the light was good, and when neither of them were looking. 

So now, there is a photograph of them on the mantelpiece.

But don't point that out to Logan. He hates to blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that title is awful, i apologise. holla if there are typos cause this was a fast one.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first drabble collection I've tried to make on here so bear with me on the formatting...


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